


Cocktail Party For Two

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [124]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 08:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8884873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Kylo plies Hux to get him squiffy and snuggly.





	

Hux - despite his height - cannot put away what he thinks he can. Especially not as he tends to think (mistakenly, in Kylo’s opinion) that the only good drink is one that costs the average monthly food budget for a stormtrooper per bottle. He goes for the Big Names on the Sharp Bottles, and he broods over them so long that the icecubes dilute the liquor into pale, golden firewater. Not quite piss, but not what the manufacturer intended. (This does mean those bottles last most of the year, if not more.)

Kylo used to drink a little before… he came over, but not much. The kind of drinking that a politician’s son would do, at formal meals… or sneaked from the smuggler father’s tankard when he wasn’t looking. But he’d learned how to do it ‘properly’ with the other Knights, and they’d drunk moonshine so fierce that it could strip the veneer off Phasma’s armour, most likely. It tended to get you intoxicated by vapours alone. 

He’d tried beers and ales, and not liked them. He’d tried the savage things of Hux’s, and found them not that much different from the stuff Ithon brewed in a still made of retired blaster and droid parts. Wine had connotations of a past he didn’t like, so he’d taken (in _private_ ) to trying things with a sweeter cut. 

The offshoot was Kylo had learned how to make his own cocktails. He’d picked up fruity liqueurs and spirits, and mixers, and he’d longingly eyed the little decorative sticks and been sadly unable to incorporate that into his aesthetic. He just couldn’t lower himself (in his mind) that far. The drinks were transgression enough.

When mixed right, they tasted just like fruit juices with a tiny kick. Or they warmed the tongue like spice and then didn’t burn the throat so much as tickle their way down to coil in the belly. 

Hux would not drink them in public, but he’d taken a dubious sniff of one of Kylo’s more pretty arrangements (the one with the red sugar syrup that dripped down through the layers and looked like lava) and from then on he’d been hooked whenever they were indulging in private.

But the thing is, Kylo had built up a tolerance from the bravado, and Hux had talked his way into his drinks diluting and not being refilled, so Hux is - uh - at a disadvantage. And by ‘disadvantage’, read he is rosy-cheeked, smiling, listing slightly on the couch. Kylo makes sure to sit next to whichever side Hux is falling towards, and fight the giggles when he gets slurry kisses to his throat that are sticky with fruity alcohol. 

“You connnstantly s’prise me,” Hux mumbles, his hand patting Kylo’s knee over and over. “Whenever I think…. that! That’s Kylo! That!”  


Kylo doesn’t know what he’s gesturing at with the glass-holding hand, but it is evidently an image of him.

“…then you go… an’ you’re… not.”  


“In a bad way?”  


“In a _very bad way_ ,” Hux snickers against his jaw.   


He’s much too drunk to do anything but awkwardly kiss and paw, but that’s not why Kylo likes to ply him. He gets all snuggly and loose-tongued, and the worry goes from his face when he’s asleep, and Kylo just… likes seeing him utterly at peace, okay?

Right now, he’s making like he’s a liquid himself, pouring over Kylo like hot fudge over icecream, his eyes dark and longing as he looks up at the Knight. 

“I don’t know why you put up with me,” Kylo teases, and boops their noses.  


Hux actually _gigglesnorts_ and then aims for his nose for a kiss and hits his cheek. “You’re _incorrishible_. Incorrigi– you’re _bad_. I **love** you.”

“Because of how bad I am?” Kylo asks, feeling the slow spin of eternity around them both, together. Or maybe the booze.  


“Yessss. You’re soooo. Soooo. _Sooooo_ …”  


“Bad?”  


“And I love you.” Hux nearly sobs. “I love you even when I’m _sober_. Because you’re _great_ and I don’t know why you love me back so much. I’m a failure at all this…”  


“You’re not,” Kylo retorts, a little fiercely. “You’re smart, and brave, and funny, and… kinder than you think.”  


“YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” Hux insists, nearly falling off the couch.  


“I will not!” he teases, watching Hux’s face cycle between three, over-the-top expressions. “You are!”  


“I’m - you’re bad and I’m kind?”  


“Apparently. But I do love you. Even when _I’m_ sober.” Which he isn’t, and he holds his arms out for Hux to come back for more cuddles. “Even when you get yelly.”  


Hux blushes, and shoves himself where he ‘can’t be seen’. (Not very well.) “Nerf,” he mutters, which means he’s at the end of his drinking ability if he’s already lost the talent of insightful insult.

“Yep. I’m a Nerf. And you’re my favourite other Nerf.”  


“We’re Nerfs together,” Hux slurs, and tries to climb on top of him. He’s too clumsy, so Kylo helps him, moving him to sit side-saddle over his thighs. Hux’s drinking arm goes around his neck so he can finish his cocktail, his legs kicking out. “Kiss me, Kylo.”  


“My pleasure, my Nerf-General.” Their kisses taste of summer and happiness, and Kylo licks his mouth clean.  



End file.
